The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6)

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The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6) Page 62

by Richard Raley


  Is a deadly weapon. Got a lightning bolt inside of it.

  “Prove to me that you aren’t Isabel Soto immediately or else!” T-Bone yelled at the top of his lungs, about as rude and unmannered as I’d ever seen him. Guess the paranoia and the stress finally got to the guy. Was also one of the few times I’ve ever even seen T-Bone looking anything but immaculately dressed. Immaculate nerdware, yes, but it’s still immaculate. Even when I spent time at his place, usually on the couch sleeping off some booze. Far as I was concerned, T-Bone got out of bed wearing them khakis and his trademark sweater-vest.

  Only now, not so much. Just a white-tee and some sweat-shorts. Looked ridiculous, especially with the way the finger kept darting between my chest and my head. Was a lot less threatening than Val had been with me pushed up against her wall. Might be a star, but she can go there if she really needs to, fry your ass to a crisp. T-Bone . . . he’ll just never have that level of violence in him. Don’t want him to, ever. Not even tomorrow when he’s standing against Paine with me.

  “That what you wear to bed with Vicky or she like you to go butt naked?” I threw out as my opening gambit.

  T-Bone’s frame rose up to try to appear threatening. It wasn’t. Big, yes, threatening no. “That might be the kind of joke he would tell, but King Henry is in the Pit. So, whoever you are, start talking or I’ll have to resort to . . . to . . . to taking you out.”

  I frowned at him for a moment, exhaustion making me slow on the uptake. “Shit, know I didn’t bother, but did everyone forget to call you?”

  “Like I would fall for that one!” T-Bone laughed theatrically. Starting to think maybe he’s been spending too much time reading our comic book stock. Sure wasn’t buying it given our sales figures.

  “Or maybe,” I realized aloud, “my girlfriend is so awesome she didn’t tell you about it, just so I could get the joy of surprising you about me breaking out, not to mention all the other Crazy going on. Damn, I really do love that woman . . .”

  “King Henry would never say that!” T-Bone laughed at me some more. “How does anyone ever fall for your act if you’re this bad? I mean, tricking King Henry into having sex with you can’t be that hard, I guess . . .”

  “I am King Henry, T-Bone,” I growled at him. “I broke out.”

  He digested this before rejecting it with some simple math. Cuz I really needed another reason to hate math, right? “Even if you did escape, the flight alone wouldn’t get you here for another four or five hours.”

  My turn to poke him in the chest, this time with the World-Breaker. Excalibur remained under my armpit, mostly cuz . . . where else you gonna put it? I mean . . . I did put it on the table in Taco Bell . . . got to use two hands on your whatever-the-fucks, else you get cheese all over the place. Especially that nacho shit that looks like orange splooge. “Isabel don’t come with props, last I checked.”

  T-Bone blinked at the jade artifact, his finger finally drooping a little bit. “It . . . it could be a fake.”

  “Get out of my way before I kick you in the balls.”

  All those words I tried to move him out of the way with and that threat was the one to convince him it was me. Maybe I do threaten to kick people in the balls too much . . . or maybe not enough. Sure would love to kick Paine in the balls right about now. Three or four times in a row. Better yet, tie him down and just let all my friends get a kick in. Bet Ceinwyn would be good at it, she got them long legs for all that leverage.

  Store looked the way it had when I left it. Meant someone cleaned after the Three Queens had their run-through. Wasn’t so busy, be nice to get a look at that video. Must have been T-Bone cleaned up. All the merchandize was stacked neat and tidy. Employee cared a lot more about the collectable side of the job than the clerical busywork, always sped through stocking the shelves.

  Felt a bit nostalgic studying it. Wasn’t the first front for my Artificer work, but it was the one that had lasted the longest and the one that felt right for me. All the shit with Paine and I’d still have to deal with the Guild and the Learning Council after. Leverage and I ain’t talking about Ceinwyn’s legs this time. The trouble I was causing . . . who knows how it would work out.

  Returned from the Pit, but might be the last time.

  Might take this shop away from me.

  Might make me live at the Asylum until the Learning Council said otherwise.

  Might make me replace the old, grumpy ass Artificer teacher they got doing the job now. That way the Maximus of the Earth is at their beck and call. Yeah, even if I survive with Paine, still had one last fight to finish off this bit of Crazy. Fight to decide what my future would be. Three fights this week. Truth. Life. Future. Some mythological sounding shit, ain’t it? Was even a dragon around . . .

  Noticed T-Bone staring at me. “What?”

  “Some explanation would be nice,” he went right into the sarcasm.

  “For what?” I played dumb, even if my canine grin gave me away. “Yeah, yeah, I admit it. Stopped for some Taco Bell and I didn’t bring you any nachos. I’m a shit friend, what can I say?”

  “I can still electrocute you,” he growled a threat that sounded more real than all the others had. Won’t hurt a stranger, but his best friend? That asshole T-Bone will bolt.

  “What are you even doing here at this hour?” I changed the subject.

  “What are you doing here at all?” he threw back at me. “And how? When I talked to Valentine this morning you were supposed to be resting up for your big day in court tomorrow . . . today . . . all-nighters, I hate all-nighters. She said she expected it would go fine, although she didn’t tell me how Miss Dale planned on arranging it, because apparently no one tells me anything. Even if I’m working overtime cataloging all the photos and information you’ve collected . . . just a lowly Ultra, my apologizes, Lord Maximus!”

  I stared at him. “If you want a hug, you talking to the wrong person, man.”

  “Maybe I should go home . . .” he groused, “I haven’t seen Vicky for two days . . .”

  “If you did that then you wouldn’t know how I got here or what’s going on,” I teased out the secret details.

  “And to think I’ve missed you this last week,” he complained, mostly to himself. “What’s wrong with me, Mancy? I used to be a normal person. Or . . . a normal geek at least. Or . . . a normal geek mancer, as normal as that can be.”

  Did walk on over to throw an arm around his shoulders. Or at least, what I could manage, given he was eight inches taller and a good eighty pounds heavier than I was. “Let’s go back into our server room, you like servers. Plus, I think you’re less likely to break anything back there.”

  “What’s that mean?” T-Bone asked, already alarmed.

  [CLICK]

  “This is horrible!” T-Bone screamed. “How could you invite Vicky’s mom? Have you lost your mind?”

  “So . . . it wasn’t that Paine has Susan or that I traveled from London to Fresno in a minute or that I’m an escaped convict that jumped to the top of the list? What really stuck out to you was that you’d finally have to meet Moira von Welf? Fucking really?”

  “It’s Vicky’s mom. I’m . . . I’m doing . . . things . . . to her daughter. With my penis! Things! Her supposed to be virginal, pure-for-marriage, marrying-into-an-Old-Mancy-family-for-political-advantage daughter. My penis!”

  Despite the levity, could tell he was actually worried, so I left the easy jokes sitting unloaded in my arsenal. “You love Vick, right?”

  T-Bone stood up a little taller, smashing his head against a monitor hanging from the ceiling. “Of course I do. She’s . . . the sweetest, most lovely woman I’ve ever met. The last six months . . . I . . . I never knew life could feel this good.”

  “Fight for her then. Stood up to Horatio Vega, right? Mama Welf ain’t much worse. So man up and deal with her.”

  “You’re one to talk,” he grumbled, rubbing his head.

  Suppose I was, or would’ve been. But not after this bit of Cra
zy. “Took awhile, but told Val I loved her eventually, didn’t I?”

  “Well I don’t have a mountain to write on, do I?”

  Made me grin some canine again. “What? It worked, didn’t it?”

  “You don’t ever get to call me a douchebag electromancer showoff again,” he told me, nervously straightening the monitor to its correct position. Was just readouts from the servers I think. Don’t understand any of the numbers, so that’s just what I’m gonna guess . T-Bone’s actual workstation was where all the data and cataloging was taking place. Recognized some of the pictures on the screens. There’s that girdle again . . . might’ve stole it over Excalibur and have Val slip into it. If the thought of children didn’t scare me more shitless than fighting Paine does. Other pictures I couldn’t remember, or suppose Val had taken. Some had been done as quickly as we could turn a page or click the photo button, didn’t even bother to read it. Months of work and T-Bone was trying to kill himself to get it done in a few days.

  Too many overachievers in Team Don’t Lick the Vamp Clit.

  “Okay, fine,” I told him, “I’ll own up to being a douchebag geomancer showoff same as the rest of you, but you have to own up that you love Vick and fight Moira Welf for her. It ain’t so bad. I met Val’s family before we were even back together . . . before we got back together again.”

  “Peter Ward is not the Bonegrinder Maximus,” T-Bone pointed out.

  “Deathtouch.”

  “Death . . . what?”

  “Deathtouch. It’s the title for the Maximus of the Dead. Did you, like . . . not get to the picture of Massey’s crazy stalker wall yet?”

  “Deathtouch,” T-Bone whined.

  “Electromancer one is called the Lightninghand, ain’t half bad. Better than Glassbreaker. Why it have to be glass? Why World-Breaker have to be taken already? Why couldn’t it be like . . . Soulbreaker, or something, ya know? Something metal as fuck.”

  “Am I the Lightninghand, King Henry?” T-Bone asked rhetorically.

  “No, it’s some old German fucker called Schumacher. Giving a Nazi that much access to electricity, probably not a good idea. But when the Mancy ever been sane with its picks? Picked me, picked Isabel. Even Ceinwyn is questionable . . .”

  Silence as T-Bone dreaded his future, but not for all the reason I dreaded my own.

  “She’s going to get hurt, King Henry, she’s not made for this kind of thing,” T-Bone finally said, not talking about Moira Welf or any of the high school crap. Yeah, I started to figure why high school crap kept popping up. We focused on it so we didn’t have to focus on the real stuff. The life and death stuff. Kill you dead and blow an arm off stuff.

  “She was, T-Bone. More than you. More than me. She’s Vicky and we both love her . . . I should tell her that too, I suppose—except no spare mountains around in this valley. Love, it’s a plague, ain’t it? But back to the point: Vick’s also a Welf. Same as her brother. Seventeen generations preparing her. Seventeen generations to live up to. Fighting people like Paine, that’s why they exist, what they were bred for. Why the Learning Council lets the Old Mancy families ignore the Anima Quota when it comes to their heirs. About power, yeah, but also an insurance policy. Shit goes bad then they’re the army.”

  T-Bone grunted, still not happy. Also finally seemed to notice I had a sword under my armpit, but was too polite to ask about it. “I need to start running some calculations on the Anima Quota too. All this work and we have to go save your sister, doesn’t seem fair. This plan was supposed to clarify everything, not muddle it.”

  “Call the Crazy this time and I sure got it, didn’t I?”

  “Liked it a whole lot more when we were in control and you were in the Pit, believe it or not.”

  “Still did that part, T-Bone. Fucking stole from the Guild. Believe that shit?”

  He finally shared my canine grin with a smile of his own. “We did. Then you escaped without making the deal we planned for.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  He eyed the sword some more. “Should I ask about that?”

  “Ask about what?” I played dumb.

  “I didn’t cut myself that badly the last time you gave me one, you know.”

  “No, but you did cut Mini’s head off.”

  “I didn’t know he was standing there! And it didn’t hurt him . . .”

  “Still had to spend a day welding it back on.”

  “Fine, be that way,” he grumbled. “Secret sword . . . just what we need. Probably stole it . . .”

  “Sure did,” I confirmed.

  Grumbling turned into a long sigh, sword forgotten and high school drama shit back in vogue. “I have to tell her about this, don’t I, King Henry? With everyone coming . . . she’ll have to know. And she’ll learn that I’ve been keeping it from her too . . .”

  “Yeah, that kinda sucks,” I agreed. “Why I don’t do that secret shit anymore.”

  “You just did it!” T-Bone accused.

  “How?” I played dumb.

  “The sword!”

  “What sword?”

  “The one I’m about to take from you and stab you with!”

  “Ain’t a sword, T-Bone. Just an artifact in the shape of a sword.”

  T-Bone watched longingly as I took it from under my armpit and held it in two hands for study. “It’s not Excalibur, is it?”

  Silence.

  “Wait . . . is that Excalibur?!?!?” the fanboy went immediately to eleven, just like Val had.

  “You don’t think Vicky will break up with you for lying to her, do you?” I tried to distract him.

  “Why would you say something like that?” T-Bone looked like I’d stabbed him . . . with a sword.

  “Well, suppose the plus side would be that if she does then Mama Welf won’t kill you, so there’s that.”

  “You are such a horrible friend!”

  “Getting better at it, but mostly yeah, I am. Know what else? You don’t get to wait until morning to call Vick. Need you to do it now. I’ll take Excalibur so you don’t cut yourself again . . . or so Vick don’t take it from you and beat you over the head with it. You know, just stay down in the workshop and work on the fake World-Breaker where it’s safe. Let you two have your little conversation up here. Pretty good sound-proofing down there . . . so tell her she can scream and yell at you however much she wants to.”

  “You suck. So much.”

  “Think of it this way: if we survive the next couple days, you’re about to have some insane make-up sex. Like . . . walls might get torn down, furniture will never be the same, Tarzan yelling tiger-sex jungle shit.”

  “Can I at least touch it once?” T-Bone begged me.

  Rolling my eyes, I held Excalibur out for him to touch.

  And now I know what his O-face looks like.

  Lucky me!

  [CLICK]

  Six months living in Fresno and it was the first time Vicky Welf had descended down my workshop ladder. Another of T-Bone’s rules. No stray anima around his precious girlfriend. And I’m the one that get’s called the sexist chauvinist!

  Middle of the night or not, got called into the Crazy with a phone call only an hour ago or not, been forced to live in Fresno—the least stylish city in America—for the last six months or not, Vicky Welf will always be Vicky Welf. Part of why the idea of her and T-Bone doing all that Wild, Crazy Animal Sex made me feel funny in my tum-tum. Vicky Welf don’t have WCAS. She don’t pee. She don’t shit. No farting . . . AT ALL . . . EVER. There’s just these little sparkle blasts of glitter that puffs out her asshole. Even makes the Legend of Zelda chest opening jingle too.

  She had on a blue dress, same color as her eyes. Not tombstone gray like her brother, but instead the color of a perfect summer day. Kind of day where the whole sky is lit up by the sun shining bright above you. Kind of day just makes you want to find some tree to snooze under, doing nothing but watching the clouds pass on by, surely performing none of that troublesome thinking you have to do most yo
ur life.

  Thinking . . . about all I been doing for the last hour.

  Didn’t have much time to waste on the planning stages of my fake World-Breaker, but a bit more than the last time around. Add in more knowledge, more skill, and a whole lot more anima vials filled to the brim, and this one would automatically be better than my first attempt fooling Joannie D and Annie B.

  Has to be good enough.

  Outnumbered. Five-to-one: likely. Ten-to-one: possible.

  Lot of that would just be Paine’s Wilders. They wouldn’t come forward, but would hang back. Paine, Isabel, Three Queens, and Susan. That would be the tight-knit center of our exchange. Meant I could bring four people with me too. Only . . . I don’t think I want to.

  Be great to have Ceinwyn by my side, except I’m not sure I trusted her that far. Not the reasons I usually didn’t trust her, the opposite in fact. Think she might pull a King Henry and try to kick Paine in the balls if I let her get too close.

  Poug’s words still echoed around in my head. Fight for life. Find victory in that. Meant getting everyone away from that meeting was more important than anything else. Yeah, yeah, I’m pugnacious, but I’ve always had a protective streak and Poug had sent that streak vibrating. Keep them all safe. Get out alive. Part of that had to do with how good my job with the fake was, but part of it had to do with manipulating the exchange without causing World War Mancy to break out.

  Val.

  Just Val and me.

  Way it had to be.

  Only person I trust when the fan is completely covered in shit and Fate has us backed into a corner.

  Maybe one day I’ll add others to the list, maybe that’s what I’m still struggling to work towards. But not tomorrow.

  Needed the rest of them to be behind me, not beside me. Safer that way.

  Harder for Paine to kill them if they aren’t right in front of him too.

  Trust Val with that as well.

  To fight off Paine.

 

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